


Family Costumes

by scrub456



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Art challenge, Bad Flirting, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Inktober, Inktober 2018, John regrets his life choices, M/M, Overall Ridiculousness, Peter Pan - Freeform, Sherlock Wearing A Sheet, Sherlock just wants to see John in tights, Star Wars - Freeform, frivolous, ghost busters, new puppy - Freeform, the Belstaff is more dramatic than a cape ever could be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-06 10:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16386470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456
Summary: A bit of Halloween fun on Baker Street.





	1. John, please wear the tights.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluebellofbakerstreet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellofbakerstreet/gifts), [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts).



> Based on artwork I did for an Inktober prompt challenge. Day 30: Frivolous.
> 
> ALSO: _This story makes my 100th posted story!_

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OR, the year John regretted letting Sherlock choose the costumes.

“Christ. What have you done?” John laughed as Sherlock crashed into the flat, arms laden with bags and packages. He stood from the nest of blankets and cushions in front of the fire and tucked Rosie into his chair with their storybook and her favorite fuzzy blanket, then turned to help relieve Sherlock of his burden.

“You’re the one who insists we participate in the Family Fun Fair at Watson’s nursery.” Sherlock grimaced as he dug through the bundles and bags, finally pulling out a small blue gown. Rosie’s eyes lit up and she bounded over to take it from him, immediately tugging in excitement at her own nightgown. He ruffled her curls and helped her change.

“Wendy bird,” she grinned up at him and twirled off to find her storybook.

“You didn’t.” John shook his head with a fond smile. “Softie.”

Sherlock hummed conspiratorially and held out a garment bag. “You may want to see yours before you act too pleased.”

“Why? What did you…” With a groan, John pulled the green tights from the bag. “Oh fu-" he glanced at Rosie and gritted his teeth. "Absolutely not.” Sherlock smirked and rolled his eyes.

“Da! You’re Peter?” Rosie clapped and jumped on the seat of John's chair.

“Chairs are for sitting, you know the rules.” John gave her a stern look. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Yes, da.” She slid to the floor into a loose heap on the pile of cushions. “But you are gonna be Peter?”

“Indeed!” Sherlock’s smile was devious. “But we might have to remind him how to have fun!” He picked her up and spun with her around John, who grumbled at him, but forced a smile for Rosie.

“Guess so, Wendy bird.” He took her from Sherlock and kissed her cheeks. “Can’t imagine anyone will want to see this creaky old man in tights though.”

“I beg to differ.” Sherlock winked, then whisked a ridiculous feathered hat from a box, placed it at a jaunty angle on his head, and bowed with a flourish. Rosie laughed and reached for it, nearly lunging out of John's arms. He plopped it on her head with a chuckle.

“Why do you get to be Captain Hook?” John frowned at his tights as he sat Rosie down.

“Always wanted to be pirate.” Sherlock grinned.

John huffed. “I’m an actual captain.” 

“Formerly.” Sherlock produced a very real looking rubber costume hook. “Besides, your stature is much more suited to…”

“Oi, you! Watch it!” Before he could growl any more, John spotted a small crocodile costume in one of the bags and held it up. “Sherlock, what…” He was interrupted by a commotion on the stairs, a startled cry, and enthusiastic barking. “Bloody hell. You didn’t.”

“Just…” Holding out his hands in a placating gesture, Sherlock dashed to the door, and ushered in a flustered Molly. Her arms were full of more shopping, and she was tangled up in a leash attached to a joyful bundle of brown fur. Rosie shrieked, scrambled over the arm of John’s chair, and tumbled into a heap with the wiggling, licking puppy.

“Hi, John.” Looking not nearly contrite enough, Molly ducked her head and smiled.

“Traitor.” John sighed. “Sherlock, we can’t just adopt a dog because you want it for your costume.”

“John, there are countless studies about the benefits of owning a pet…” He bit his lip when John leveled his no more bullshit look at him. “Fine. I had a puppy when I was Rosie’s age.” He shrugged. “Sentiment.”

“Git,” John chuckled. “I did too.” He crouched down to scratch the puppy’s ears. “Name?”

“He’s a beagle spaniel mix, ten months old, and,” Sherlock cleared his throat, “I named him Hamish.”

John choked and sat down hard on the floor. “For fu- Why?”

“He chose me. There’s something very loyal about him. An inner strength.” Sherlock shrugged. 

Molly laughed. “Sherlock commented that Hamish attacked the treats he gave him the same way you do.” She blushed and ducked her head again. 

“Oh, great. So I’m old, short, and fat. Thank you.” John buried his face in his hands. “I’m definitely not wearing the tights now.”

“John,” Sherlock laughed as he sat on the floor next to him. He undid the leash and pulled Hamish to his lap. Rosie immediately followed. “You called yourself old. I am guilty only of observing that you are compact, healthy, and,” he flashed a rakish grin, “ _eager._ ”

“Oh god, Sherlock.” John took Hamish from him and buried his crimson face in the soft fur.

“Well,” Molly looked uncomfortable. “I’m just gonna… I, uhm… Bye!” She ducked out without a second glance.

“Is puppy staying?” Rosie was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Hamish,” Sherlock corrected gently as he snapped a photo of John, Rosie and the puppy with his mobile.

“ _Ham_ ish?” She giggled. “That's silly.”

“Hey now!” John feigned insult, and Rosie giggled harder.

“But is he staying?” She asked again, and chanted “Hammie, Hammie, Hammie” in a sing-song voice as she scratched his ears.

“If Mrs. Hudson gives her permission, I suppose so.” John relinquished the squirming puppy to Rosie’s affections. “I hate you sometimes.” He mumbled to Sherlock, his eyes revealing his true happiness, then bumped their shoulders together.

“I love you too, John.” Sherlock leaned over, kissed the side of his head, and whispered next to his ear. “And later, when you try on the tights, I’ll prove it to you.”


	2. "However hard you try, it's always a self portrait."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another silly idea I had for a Holmes/Watson family costume.
> 
> OR... John's pick.

“Is it too much to ask? Really?” John crossed his arms over his chest with a defeated sigh. They both knew this was not a fight he was going to win, but he had to make a fuss. On principle.

“It's a hazard and a nuisance. I refuse to wear it.” Placing a final few clips in Rosie's hair, Sherlock held up a small mirror so she could admire his work, then shooed her upstairs to change into her costume. “Too much potential for unwanted drama.”

“That's the whole point!” Imitating a swooshing cape, John threw his arms out to his sides. “It's dramatic and dangerous.”

“You say the same thing about my coat.” Sherlock grabbed his Belstaff from its hook by the door and swung it theatrically on.

“But that's _World's Only Consulting Detective_ dramatic. This,” John grabbed the black cape from the back of his chair and twirled it around himself, settling it on his shoulders. “This is _Dark Overlord of the Universe_ dramatic.”

“It's not my fault you picked ridiculous costumes.”

“You jumped at the chance to have a legitimate, organic reason to walk around threatening to choke, and I quote, ‘all those mindless idiots!’” John laughed and pretended to choke him using the force.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, shrugged, and held the Darth Vader helmet, complete with voice changing filter, out to John. “If the cape is so important to you, you wear the costume. You know how I feel about the frivolity of this celebration.”

“First of all, you love it. Everyone in disguise. All the mystery and intrigue. And sweets.” Sherlock scoffed as John pushed the helmet back to him and let the cape drop to the floor, the fabric draping artfully to reveal his own costume. “And, secondly, do you really want me to change?” He turned slowly, showing off the carefully fitted shirt, the trousers that hugged just so, and the boots. Those damn boots.

“Now that you mention it, that Han costume does put rather a lot of your _ass_ ets on display.”

“ _Ass_ ets?” John couldn't help an incredulous laugh. “I wore those damn tights last year!”

“And you nearly caused a scene!” Sherlock did his best not to react to the memory, but couldn't help the slight flush that crept up his neck and to his cheeks.

John grinned, pleased with himself. “No. _You_ nearly caused a scene.”

“The Luke costume, with the robes, would be a safer choice. No risk of public outcry, or… Or unwanted… attention...” Sherlock cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“Sherlock,” John laughed. “I can't tell if you're being sweetly jealous and overprotective,” he winked and leaned up close to whisper in Sherlock's ear, “or if you want me to call you _daddy._ ”

“What? I…” Sherlock gasped and sputtered, his facing going full crimson.

“You know _I am your father_?” Doing his best Darth Vader impression, John winked and pulled him into a kiss.

“Da! ‘Olmes! We're ready!” Rosie jumped down from the last steps, dressed as Princess Leia, with Hammie in his Chewbacca costume close behind. She carried with her a stuffed bear dressed as an ewok and the purple lightsaber she’d insisted she _needed._

Sherlock sighed and cleared his throat as John chuckled and handed him the Darth Vader helmet again. “Quite right, young Watson.” He gave her an appraising once over and nodded in approval before turning to John. “She gets the lightsaber, I keep my coat.” He adjusted his collar once more and wrapped the coat more tightly around himself. 

“Fine. But the Han costume stays.” John pulled the toy blaster from his hip holster, twirled it like a trick shooter would a gun, and locked it back in place with a devious grin. "I think you just can't bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight.*"

“ _John._ ” Sherlock groaned as he put the helmet on.

“You know, sometimes I even amaze myself.*" John pulled the lightsaber he'd picked up for Sherlock from a bag under the table, and pressed a button that made it glow red before handing it over.

“John, I…” Sherlock froze when he heard his distorted voice. Rosie giggled. “Ugh. JohnIloveyou.” He rushed through with a huff.

John clipped Hammie's leash into place and took Rosie's hand before glancing back over his shoulder, with a coy look. “I know.*”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Of course John is quoting Han. :-)


	3. Who ya gonna call?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie's pick... Sherlock is not cooperative.
> 
> And poor Hammie.

“Oh, for fuck's sake…” John glanced at Rosie. “Sorry, Ro.”

“Swear jar.” She shrugged and didn't look up from adjusting the straps on Hammie's Slimer costume. The poor dog always took their antics in stride.

John dropped a few coins in the half full jar and turned back to Sherlock. “You couldn't just wear the outfit? It's not even a full costume!” John motioned to the grey jumpsuit he was wearing.

“I refuse to be associated with that imbecile.” Sherlock pouted. At least John assumed he was pouting. The sheet he was draped head to toe in revealed little, with the exception of two holes cut for his eyes.

“But he's funny, and handsome!” Rosie did look up then, pleadingly at Sherlock. “And he can dance good, like you, Holmes.”

“Good girl, appeal to his ego.” John patted the mess of curls piled up on top of her head.

“The comedy was mediocre. The dancing a travesty. And he's not _that_ handsome.” Sounding completely put upon, Sherlock dropped gracelessly into his chair.

“Not that… He's Chris Hemsworth! Of course he's handsome.” John laughed.

“Well, the character's an idiot.” Sherlock huffed.

“But Rosie picked the outfit just for you. So you could wear _normal_ clothes, or near enough.” John sat awkwardly in his own chair, trying to accommodate the pack he was wearing strapped to his back.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped, and he slid down in his seat. “Well, what if I didn't want to wear something normal?”

“Ah,” John nodded in understanding and looked to Rosie who was carefully studying Sherlock's response. She nodded once herself, and John smiled proudly at her.

“It's okay, da.” She climbed up on the arm of Sherlock's chair and leaned against him. “I like the ghost costume Holmes made. We are Ghost _Busters._ We can catch more than one ghost.”

“That's a good idea, Rosie.” John nodded. “Why don't you go get your pack, and we'll head out?” Rosie placed a kiss on Sherlock's sheet covered head and dashed upstairs to her room.

“I should have realized.” John shook his head. “You love this. You love us all dressing up for Halloween.”

“I appreciate a _good_ disguise is all.” Sounding as haughty as anyone could whilst wearing a sheet, Sherlock stood and artfully draped the fabric around himself.

“Speaking of _good,_ did you cut holes in one of my new sheets?” John struggled to stand and Sherlock steadied him.

“John, when will you learn to leave the purchasing of bedding to me? Your taste and sense of what is _good,_ or even acceptable, is abysmal.”

“All right, no need to be a git about it.” John shook his head. “You know, I can't help but remember the last time you wore a sheet in public.” He bumped Sherlock with his shoulder, and Sherlock chuckled.

“Mycroft was beyond livid.”

“Hm,” John hummed with a grin. “So tell me, are you wearing any pants?”

Sherlock shrugged under his sheet and took off down the steps. “The sooner we go, the sooner we get back. Maybe I'll let you try to catch me and find out!”

“Fuck.”

“Swear jar!” Rosie called over her shoulder as she charged down the steps, Hammie on her heels, after Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of Hammie's costumes are real costumes you can order for you dog. ;-)


End file.
